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Dewey let out an awed breath as they walked into the theater’s lobby, looking around at all the fancy carpets and antique architecture. “Wow! I can’t believe we’re really here!”
“Haven’t you lived in Duckburg, like, your whole life?” Lena asked from his side, her sneakers squeaking against the polished marble floor. “Have you seriously never been to New Beak Theater?”
“You think Donald had the time or money to take us here?” Dewey returned. “Man, sometimes I’m really glad that Scrooge is rich!”
“Sure, but didn’t you ever try to sneak in? I’ve been here tons.”
“Not all of us can shadow-walk, Lena.”
Lena shrugged.
“Um—thanks for taking me, by the way,” Dewey said. “Scrooge and the others are off on some dumb adventure trying unravel a thousand-year-old riddle about the location of a cursed goblet that turns whoever drinks from it into a giant lizard creature or something. But this? This is a once in a lifetime event!”
“Do you guys ever, like, hear yourselves when you talk about your lives?” Lena asked. “And don’t worry about it, I don’t mind a little babysitting. I happen to be a fan of theater myself.”
Dewey perked up. Lena was so cool, and she liked theater? Maybe he could understand where Webby got it. “Wow! First it turns out we both like the Feather Weights, now this… I didn’t realize we had so much in common!”
Lena scrunched up her eyes at him. “…Sure, Bluey,” she said, before walking away towards the theater’s entrance.
Dewey crossed his arms as he trailed after her. “I know you know my name.”
They entered the theater, and the usher handed them each a playbill before showing them to their seats. Dewey looked down at the graphic on the front, of a beautiful peacock woman underneath the words Princess D’Lamarte in large, flowy script.
“I can’t believe they came to Duckburg to perform! I never thought I’d get to see it in person!”
“Really? There are like, a bajillion bajillionaires who live here. If I were touring a renowned play with ticket prices like this, Duckburg would be at the top of my list.” Lena paused, looking down at the playbill, and the picture of Princess D’Lamarte. “Wait. Is that…?”
“It’s Olivia Cardosa, the lead actress and playwright! She’s, like, such a good dancer, too! Just wait until the opening scene where she—”
“No, no, that can’t be right,” Lena said with a frown, flipping through the booklet to the ‘cast’ page. She began reading aloud: “Olivia Cardosa is a rising actress and playwright who got her start in a small coastal town in Portugal I KNEW IT!”
The couple in front of them turned around and shushed them. Dewey gave them an apologetic smile; Lena didn’t seem to notice.
“Knew what?” Dewey asked, making sure to whisper.
“This Olivia person tried to kidnap me when I was on my way to Duckburg! She was going to try to use my magic to summon a demon!”
“I’m—” Dewey frowned. “Maybe you’re thinking of a different Olivia?”
“She looks exactly the same, Dewey! And these supporting actors were all part of her weird cult!”
“But she’s just a playwright now!” Dewey insisted. “Clearly she left any demon-summoning in her past, and has moved on to her true calling: theater!”
“She always was a bit dramatic, I guess,” Lena said. “But I still wanna check this out. For all we know, they could be using the play to fund their evil demon plans.”
“Well.” Dewey paused, thinking it over. “I suppose that if you wanted to sneak us backstage so we could meet them in person and make sure they’re not evil and maybe get their autographs when we find out they’re not evil, I wouldn’t, you know. Mind too much.”
“Great,” Lena said, and that was all the warning Dewey got before she grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the shadows underneath their chairs. Everything went black for what simultaneously felt like both five seconds and twenty minutes, and then suddenly they were in a small room, with racks of costumes pushed against one wall, a mirror on another, and a few couches and low tables set up. A green room, Dewey realized.
“Alright,” Lena said. “If we get caught, we’re just really big fans who got overexcited, okay?”
“That will not be a hard lie to sell,” Dewey said.
Then the doorknob rattled, and there was a creak as the door started to open.
“Shit!” Lena exclaimed, grabbing Dewey by the arm and pulling him into the racks of costumes.
Dewey giggled as Lena adjusted the garments to hide them more effectively. “Oooooh, you said the S-word!”
Lena glared at him. “Yeah? Here’s an S-word for you: shut up!”
Dewey did his best to stifle his giggling as voices filled the room.
“What do you MEAN your voice is sore?” came a harsh voice. “This is the worst time for your voice to be sore!”
“I’m really sorry, Liv, I just—we’ve been doing so many shows!” The second speaker had none of Olivia’s brazen confidence; he was meek and, sure enough, his voice sounded a little sore. “All the evil laughter takes a lot out of the throat, you know?”
“Phillip, we can’t afford for this show to go poorly! I can feel Comedorama’s power growing; he’s almost strong enough to manifest physically! If this show flops because you can’t get your act together—”
“Okay!” Phillip cried. “Okay, I’ll do it. I probably just need to get some water.”
“Good,” Olivia said. “And don’t miss your cue like last time! Silvan can’t babysit you the whole time, okay?”
“I know, jeez! I’ll be fine, Liv.”
A huff. “You better be.”
The door opened and shut as Olivia marched out of the green room. There was a beleaguered sigh from Phillip, and soon the sound of trickling water.
Dewey turned to Lena. “Who’s Comedorama?” he whispered.
“Demon,” Lena answered curtly. “Feeds on adoration from an audience.”
Dewey groaned, very quietly. “Gosh darn it.” He had been really hoping that Lena had been wrong about this whole thing. “Do you think that they’d still sign an autograph?”
“Dewey.”
“Right, right. I’m focusing.” Dewey parted two of the dresses in front of him to take a look at Phillip. He looked like he had gotten into a battle with the carpeting at Funzo’s and lost: he wore loose, oversized clothing with funky green and blue patterns, black platform boots, and had a few pieces of jewelry and piercings that caught the light. He finished drinking and set down his water bottle before walking over to the costume racks, taking out a long black and red cloak with a fancy neckerchief.
This also completely revealed Dewey.
He smiled awkwardly. “Ph—Phillip! Huge fan, can I get your autograph? I just love how you play Count Villainous and—”
POW!
There was a bright flash of purple light, and Phillip was sent hurtling backwards, landing against the back of one of the couches hard enough to send it skidding backwards, bumping into the wall. He collapsed unconscious onto the cushions, and Dewey turned to look at Lena, who was holding out a palm, her chest still faintly glowing purple.
Slowly, she lowered her arm. “Sorry. I panicked.”
“Uh—” Dewey side-eyed Phillip; his eyes were open, but unseeing, breathing slow, deep breaths against the sofa. “It’s cool. Could you just blast them all and be done with it?”
Lena shook her head. “Comedorama is using Olivia as its host; I’d rather not go up against him directly if I can help it. Our best bet right now is to sabotage the play so he doesn’t get any stronger.”
Dewey’s eyes fell on the unconscious Phillip, and he gasped in delight. “Oh! I just had the best idea.”
Dewey flung open the door to the backstage area and strolled through, Phillip’s costume thrown over his shoulders. He walked with an unshakable confidence; Louie always said the key to selling a lie was confidence, and that made sense, because Heuy was terrible at lying and Huey also had no confidence.
Olivia and the other actor, Silvan, were already backstage, and turned as he walked in. They were both in costume as well: Olivia was wearing a beautiful black dress with countless flowing layers and big, loose sleeves, accented with a rich gold at the hems. Her hair was pinned up in a high braided bun, and her tail feathers, vivid and glorious, fanned out behind her.
Silvan’s costume was much more subtle, but they still looked fancy and regal, dressed up as the dashing Prince Horatio. Dewey’s eyes latched onto the sword hanging at their side—Dewey had always wanted a sword like that. Even a fake one, just to like, hang from a belt and grab the hilt of whenever he was feeling particularly valiant. It looked so cool! Maybe Webby had one he could use? Ah, but he’d need like, a belt too…
“Who are you?”
Dewey looked up at Olivia and blinked. “What? Oh! Me! I’m the understudy for Count Villainous!”
Olivia and Silvan exchanged a glance.
“Phillip had to go home,” Dewey explained. “He was suffering from a really bad case of stagefright”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “We don’t have understudies.”
“Provided by the venue!” Dewey said, flashing a smile. “New Beak Theater didn’t become the best theater in town by having to cancel productions!”
Olivia turned to Silvan. “You buying this?”
“Well.” Silvan shrugged their shoulders. “Phillip does have pretty bad stagefright.”
“I don’t know about this,” Olivia mumbled.
“You’re on in five!” called a theater tech from across the room, before slipping back into the sound booth.
Olivia dragged a hand down her face. “Uuuuuugggggghhhhh. You know the script?”
“Of course!” Dewey assured her. He knew it by heart; he’d watched the play tons of times on YouTube! Louie called it ‘pirating,’ Huey said it was ‘immoral,’ and Lena said it was ‘the duty of the people to erode the classist exclusivity of the theater industry.’
“Then I guess we don’t really have a choice,” she sighed.
Dewey beamed. “Now that’s what I like to hear!”
Olivia regarded him flatly. “Next time I see him, Phillip’s dead.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on him, boss,” Silvan suggested. “Maybe he just needs some positive reinforcement.”
“You kidding? I’ll bet he’s out getting milkshakes and watching a movie,” Olivia spat. “What a slacker.”
Lena made a face as she pulled an unconscious Phillip down the hall in her telekinetic grip. Why did everything she ever did with Webby or her brothers always turn into something like this? She wasn’t surprised or anything, or disappointed, really—she was just kind of tired.
At least Dewey was having fun. Little nerd. At first she had viewed Webby’s brothers as annoying little twerps that were getting in the way of her and Magica’s plans, but that had changed. Now she saw them as annoying little twerps who stole her snacks during her sleepovers, which was, like, way worse. But Webby seemed to really care about them, so she supposed they couldn’t be that bad.
And Dewey did have good taste, for the most part. She briefly remembered the Feather Weights jam session they’d had together when they’d realized they were both fans, before quickly reminding herself that it had absolutely never happened ever and proceeding to stop thinking about it.
She reached a janitorial closet and tossed Phillip in there, briefly binding his wrists with strands of hard-light magic. She was about to close the door when she heard a cough from behind her.
Lena jumped and turned around, coming face to face with a janitor. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Lena started taking in a torrent: “Okay so I know what this looks like but I can explain—”
The janitor regarded her uninterestedly, her eyes sagging with exhaustion. “Look, I just need to get my mop.”
“R-Right,” Lena said, stepping out of the way. The janitor stepped over Phillip’s prone body, took a mop from against the wall, grabbed a bucket of water, and walked back out of the closet, closing the door.
Lena shrugged at her, laughing nervously. “Duckburg, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Duckburg.”
When Dewey’s cue came, he strolled out onto the stage, taking in the massive audience of theatergoers. This was his time! He got this.
Olivia was on the other side of the stage, dancing along to the smooth orchestral soundtrack with a fluidity and poise that wasn’t especially becoming of a cultist hosting an ancient demon. Dewey watched her for a few seconds, not having to feign his awe, before turning to the audience to deliver his lines.
“Oh, but I have become entranced
“By this maiden’s graceful dance;
“Like petals falling from the tree
“That swirl and sway to the melody,
“She must be Princess D’Lamarte,
“The star of the ball, and now… my heart.”
“Count Villainous! What brings you all the way out here?” Dewey turned as Silvan walked onstage, dressed in his Prince costume. He opened his arms wide in greeting, projecting a kind smile towards the crowd. “I’m to understand your estate is not so near.”
Dewey shifted his gaze back to where Olivia continued to dance, conjuring up a dreamy sigh. “Why, it’s worth the trip to see the view.”
“The Princess is quite the sight, it’s true,” said Silvan.
“I cannot wait until we’re joined as one—
“I’ll be the happiest man beneath the Sun.”
Dewey made a strangled face. “Ah—so you’re her fiancé?”
“Indeed I am. That is to say:
“We plan to wed in but a week.
“Now let’s get out there and move our feet!”
Dewey watched as he made his way over to Olivia and began to dance with her. Once he was alone on his half of the stage, Dewey turned to address the audience.
“That Prince Horatio is nothing but pure evil!” he began with a huff.
“Nobody shall treat the Princess worse than he will.
“I must find a way to put a stop to this marriage
“Before she is chained to him by a baby carriage.
“My mind is swirling with genius plans
“Through which I instead may take her hand;
“Fear not, Princess, for Count Villainous shall come
“To save you from that useless bum!”
Dewey finished the speech with a self-righteous pose before sweeping off backstage, the crowd murmuring curiously as he left.
It wasn’t long before Prince Horatio had a solo scene monologuing about his own love for the Princess, and at that time, Olivia came backstage too, giving Dewey a cold glare.
“What was that?!” she accused, throwing a hand dramatically to the curtains. “You went totally off script! Count Villainous is supposed to be the villain, not some noble hero! He kidnaps her!”
“I was just trying to get into his shoes,” Dewey said. “Really feel the part, you know? Count Villainous wouldn’t consider himself a villain.”
“He literally does!” Olivia fumed. “Uuuuuggggghhhh! Look, just stick to the script in the future, alright?”
“Okay, okay,” Dewey said, putting out his hands placatingly. “No need to get fussy.”
Olivia looked about ready to strangle someone. From the shadows behind her, Lena popped her head out to shoot Dewey a double-thumbs-up. Keep it up, she mouthed.
Dewey smiled and gave her a subtle nod. This was the best adventure ever.
About a half hour later, as Lena watched the play unfold from the shadows, she was about ready to pull her hair out. Dewey was continuing to go wildly off script, of course—he was portraying Count Villainous as some sort of valiant seeker of justice and true love, and had accused Prince Horatio of only wanting to marry Princess D’Lamarte for tax benefits.
The only problem was that the audience was eating it up.
“No matter how much wealth you accrue,” Dewey pronounced, thrusting an accusatory hand out towards Prince Horatio, “it shall never be enough to weed out love that rings true!”
“Heed not this foolish Count, Princess!” countered Silvan.
“He tells naught but fibs; and soon shall he confess
“That he has other reasons to besmirch one such as me:
“Our beloved Count is possessed by a monstrous jealousy!”
The crowd gasped, and Olivia broke out in a small smirk before slipping back into character. Lena groaned internally as she felt Comedorama’s magical aura swell.
“Count Villainous, is that truly how you feel about me?” Olivia asked, throwing a hand over her heart.
“Why, one would have to be a fool not to love thee,” Dewey professed.
Silvan scoffed. “Do you take me for a fool, then, Count?”
“Indeed I do, sir, despite all those titles you flaunt!” Dewey shot back.
“My love for her is why I must act;
“I shan’t allow her to marry such a hack!”
Both Count Villainous and Prince Horatio stormed off in a huff, leaving Olivia alone on the stage.
“The Count bestows love upon me in a shower,
“But does he truly feel it, or just seek power?
“And what of Horatio, that sweet, lovable man—
“Could he really be trying to run such a scam?”
Why is she so good at improvising? Lena thought, as angrily as she could. This play should be dead in the water by now!
Olivia threw an arm over her forehead in a grand, forlorn gesture as she continued.
“Oh, what a world, where love can disguise
“Such filthy, horrible, rancid lies!
“Both of these men have a line to my heart;
“As they pull they threaten to tear it apart!
“With whom shall I make my matrimonial pact?
“You’ll have to wait and find out… in the second act!”
Olivia took a deep bow, and the audience erupted as the curtains drew closed. Lena slipped through the shadows to the backstage area, where Olivia was just arriving.
She turned to Dewey and smiled broadly, her colorful feathers spreading wide. “Mister Understudy, you genius! The crowd simply adores this rendition of the play! The sweet, charming Prince, or the passionate, clever Count; who shall the fair Princess choose? Ooh, I was a fool to dismiss the drama of a classical love triangle! Thank you for opening my eyes—this play shall go splendidly!”
“Well,” Dewey said, chuckling a little to himself. “I am something of a genius, I suppose.”
Lena almost blew her cover then and there, but, somehow, managed to hold her tongue.
“Keep your wits about you, then,” Olivia advised, twirling her finger up to the ceiling in some sort of directive gesture. “We have but fifteen minutes before we are back onstage! We must make the audience swoon!”
She left the room, and almost immediately, Lena schlorped upwards from a patch of shadows on the ground, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, putting on a show-stopping performance!” he said. “Duh!”
“Then why isn’t the show stopped?!” Lena hissed. “You were supposed to sabotage the play, not morally complicate the antagonist to transform the story from a predictable fairy tale romance to a daring subversion of classical literary tropes! Also, you are way too good at rhyming couplets—would it kill you to throw in a horrible slant rhyme here or there?”
“Well, sorry for being such a good actor!” Dewey protested. “Maybe if you wanted the play to go badly, you should’ve been the understudy!”
“It was your idea! And I would’ve totally done it myself if Olivia didn’t know what I look like!”
“Oh yeah,” Dewey said. “Well, um—what’s the plan then?”
“I don’t know! I’m not great at plans, okay? Maybe if we—wait a second.” Lena sniffed the air, frowned, and moved closer to dewey, sniffing some more.
“Uhhh. Lena? Are you okay?” Dewey asked. “I mean, I’d expect this from Webby—or even like, you doing this to Webby, I guess, but—”
“Shut up,” Lena instructed. “Why do you smell like demon?”
Dewey raised an eyebrow. “Are you, like, telling me I need to take a shower, or—?”
“No, dude, I’m saying you smell like a demon. They leave a very particular smell and it’s all over you. Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “It’s because you’ve been garnering so much attention during the play! Comedorama feeds on attention; you’ve been getting a ton of it, so he’s been licking it off of you!”
“Not gonna lie, I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“It’s metaphorical licking,” Lena said. “You’re like a fun dip stick, and the audience’s interest is your fun dip powder. You’re covered in it, and Comedorama’s been just going to town on you.”
“Yeah, so, really not a fan of this metaphor,” Dewey said. “Isn’t this a bad thing, though? If he’s getting more powerful?”
“I mean, yeah,” Lena said, “but we might be able to use you as bait. Sort of.” She caught sight of the backstage door opening again, and slipped into the shadows. “Just keep doing your thing, okay? Really wow the crowd! I’ll handle the rest.”
And with that, she slipped back into the Shadow Realm.
The second act of the play was going pretty well, if Dewey said so himself, which he did. He and Prince Horatio had gone back and forth trying to sabotage each other’s prospects with Princess D’Lamarte, and now it was all coming to a head, with the wedding night approaching and the Princess having to make her final decision.
“Oh, but which of you should I choose,” Olivia lamented,
“And whom shall I have to brutally refuse?
“Part of me wishes I possessed a Seer’s prophetic vision,
“And part wishes I need not even make such a heart-wrenching decision!”
Dewey smirked as an idea popped into his head.
“Then why don’t we settle this in a democratic manner,
“And see for which suitor our audience makes the most clamor?”
“Yes!” Olivia cried, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of audience participation.
“That would surely ease the burden on my shoulders,
“To outsource my fate to our dear ticket holders.”
Silvan let out a gallant laugh, turning to the crowd and spreading their arms wide.
“Well then, dear onlookers, raise your voices to the sky,
“If you think Prince Horatio deserves to be the apple of our maiden’s eye!”
The crowd whooped and cheered, but Dewey quickly cut them off by stepping forward, dramatically smoothing back his hair flip.
“And now, let me hear your claps, shouts, and screams,
“If you think it is Count Villainous who frequents the lady’s dreams!”
The audience roared. Dewey’s smile threatened to cleave his face in two.
Olivia stepped towards Dewey. “I suppose, then, I know who shall take my hand—”
“SUMMON, SPIRIT OF THE SHADOWLAND!”
Several yelps rang out as a burst of swirling purple magic and black mist exploded onto the stage, and suddenly, Lena was there, decked out in a drooping felt witch hat she must have stolen from the costume rack.
Olivia’s face contorted in rage. “Who—?!”
“It is I,” Lena announced, “the Sorceress of Aleimon!”
“Do not wed yet this woman, for she has made pact with a demon!”
The crowd gasped. Olivia and Silvan exchanged glances.
“Why do you speak such blatant lies?” Silvan said, stepping forward.
“Do you, too, seek Princess D’Lamarte as your heart's prize?”
Lena scoffed. “You buffoon, there are easier ways to sabotage a romance!
“And besides, it is the demon Comedorama who has me entranced!”
Olivia blinked. “…What?”
“How dare you host him, you insufferable filth!” Lena continued.
“A handsome demon like him deserves someone of much better ilk!
“And though he has undoubtedly captured my own heart,
“Alas, I know not even I could play such a part—
“But, O! This fine Count Villainous, who speaks like a sage,
“And who has captured all of our hearts up here on the stage,
“Would be a fine host, with his charisma that enraptured so many!”
Suddenly, a deep, gritty voice filled up the arena as a large, red silhouette flowed up from out of Olivia’s body.
“NOW THAT YOU MENTION IT,” Comedorama said, opening piercing yellow eyes, “HE IS QUITE THE PRETTY PENNY.”
“NO!” Olivia screeched. She raised her hands, crackling with red lightning. “YOU’RE NOT UPSTAGING ME, YOU UNDERSTUDY!”
She shot a blast out at Dewey, but Lena was there in seconds, projecting out a bright purple shield that cleanly absorbed the energy. “Stand back, Blue!” she called. “This is about to get bloody.”
Dewey scrambled away as blasts and spells and explosions engulfed centerstage, only for Comedorama to appear in front of him. His creepy yellow eyes widened, threatening to swallow Dewey right up, and a stark-white forked tongue shot out of where his mouth should’ve been if he weren’t a silhouette, licking at nonexistent lips.
“WHY HELLO THERE, MY GOOD COUNT VILLAINOUS,” Comedorama said. “YOU’RE IN LUCK; TODAY I’M FEELING QUITE GENEROUS.”
“Yeah, um—” Dewey gulped. “So, what’s the deal here?”
“I’M GLAD YOU MENTIONED DEALS, THOUGH THERE’S NO NEED TO FEAR.
“I’M SEEKING A CAPTIVATING HOST TO BIND ME TO THIS MORTAL PLANE;
“IN RETURN I’LL GRANT YOU POWERS OVER BODY, SOUL, AND BRAIN.”
“And—um, okay, so, what if I refuse?”
Comedorama bared a set of very sharp teeth. “I’M AFRAID THAT WOULD BE A VERY FOOLISH PATH TO CHOOSE.”
“L—LENA!” Dewey shouted, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his arms up in front of him.
There was a demonic roar, that turned into a scream, that turned into a whimper, and Dewey opened his eyes. Lena was standing over Comedorama—sharp blades of condensed magic were poking out from her fingers like claws, and she had stabbed them straight through Comedorama’s wispy red form. After a few seconds, he dissipated into a fine red powder, falling daintily to the stage.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Olivia shouted from across the stage, where Lena had buried her halfway into the band pit. “I SHALL NEVER FORGIVE YOU, DE SPELL!”
“Yeah, that’s not my name anymore, Liv!” Lena called back. “I’ll see you in hell!” Then Lena turned back to Dewey and groaned. “Ugh, that one wasn’t even intentional. If I start talking in rhymes for no reason, I’m blaming you.”
Dewey just ran up and hugged her. “Thanks, Lena.”
“O-oh,” Lena said, awkwardly patting him on the back. “No problem. Besides, Webby would’ve been really upset if you’d gotten possessed by a demon, so I didn’t really have a choice.”
Dewey pulled away. “Man, this was the best adventure ever! I can’t wait to tell Huey and Louie about how we—”
“Ahem.”
They both turned to see a woman standing just off stage, holding a mop and a bucket of water.
“I need to clean this up,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
“Right. Of course.” Lena grabbed Dewey’s arm and led him down into the theater seats, which were all empty.
“Where’d everybody go?” Dewey asked.
“They kind of all left once Liv set the curtains on fire,” Lena said.
Dewey looked over his shoulder; sure enough, the curtains were, in fact, on fire. “Oh.”
“They really loved you, though," Lena continued. "You’re a great actor, Dewey.”
Dewey gasped, and turned to look up at Lena. She caught his gaze, flushed a little, and looked away with a huff. “What?!”
“You complimented me! And you called me by my real name!”
“Technically, I called you by your nickname,” Lena corrected. “Your real name’s, like, Dewellyn, or whatever?”
“Wait until Louie hears about this! He’s gonna be so jealous!”
“Oh my god, you guys are insufferable,” Lena grumbled. “Last time I ever take you to a play.”
Dewey grinned impishly up at her. “Well… I suppose if you’re okay with Webby finding out about those poems you—”
Lena flared her magic.
“—nevermind,” Dewey said. “Thank you very much for taking me to see a play, Lena, I really hope we can do this again sometime, please don’t hurt me.”
Lena laughed. “That’s better. And… yeah. Babysitting you can be pretty fun, I guess.”
Dewey threw up his hands triumphantly. “I’m friends with a teenager! Take that, elementary school bullies!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lena said, folding her arms behind her head as they walked out onto the streets of Duckburg. “Let’s just get you back to the mansion before anything else crazy happens, okay?”
Dewey agreed, but didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.